


Of Thorns and Buttercups

by Buttercup_of_Kaer_Morhen



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Beast!Geralt, Beauty and the Beast AU, Buckle in Children this is going to be a long ride, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier is eternally patient, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier's Bell, M/M, Mentions of Yennefer, POV Switches, Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Slow Burn, Who didn't expect this?, With a twist!, memory alteration due to curse, not really mentioned much though, violence against animated non-sentient furniture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:21:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25938076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buttercup_of_Kaer_Morhen/pseuds/Buttercup_of_Kaer_Morhen
Summary: After the events on the mountain, Geralt is lost and bardless and he may be desperate enough to take a job from a shady hag in a seemingly cursed village to get him back. Things do not go as planned however and Geralt finds himself embroiled in the mystery of the curse and all that follows it. Meanwhile, Jaskier left the mountain with only a broken heart and a loss for inspiration when he suddenly finds himself at an old castle with holes in his memory. The two will have to work together to find a way to break the curse but will mystery, heartbreak, and loss be what bridges the gap between these two.Tags will be updated as we go on and the rating may be subject to change. My Lovely Beta was Sophiakuso1, so shout out to my bro for helping me out!
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 62
Kudos: 53





	1. Beasts

**Author's Note:**

> This Beauty and the Beast AU is a twist of the original novels written in French and various adaptations that came after but it will only be borrowing a few things from them. I started this on a whim after a strange dream and so here we are. This is my first fanfic that I am actually posting online. Buckle up folks cause we are on this road for an indeterminate amount of chapters.

The roads down from the mountain had been quiet aside from the sounds of the woods and its inhabitants, although those too seemed muted and subdued now. The witcher had thought that once he was left alone, his life would just go back to the way it was before. That everything up until then wouldn’t make a difference, he’d walk the path alone and he’d be fine...But the absence of the bard hung heavily around him, like an albatross hanging from his neck. He finally had the blissful peace and quiet he had longed for but it wasn’t as blissful as he thought it would be. It only left him uneasy, looking over his shoulder and straining to hear even the softest of humming or the strum of a lute. More than just the noise that no longer followed him, the comforting warm presence of Jaskier was no longer at his side. And for the first time in his long life of making mistakes, he couldn’t push away the deep feeling of regret that tailed him like a hungry hound.

At first, during his descent down the mountain, Geralt had a moment of realization that his-- the bard could have easily gotten hurt--or worse, killed--heading down on his own without the witcher’s protection. He watched and listened for any indication that Jaskier had been injured as he walked on. As time went by, the wolf resigned himself to the fact that Jaskier was long gone, whether that meant alive or dead he did not know. It left a soft taste in his mouth and the feeling of bile in the back of his throat. The night he reached the base and set up camp, he briefly felt the urge to run and track down his lost friend, wherever he may be, but he held fast and let the urge pass. It was better this way. Jaskier deserved better. At least better than a wolf that only knew how to bite the kind hand he extended. If the bard wasn’t at his side then he was safer as well. No longer being put in danger by the monsters and battles that followed Geralt no matter where he went. He was undoubtedly happier too. He would find someone who knew how to actually give a compliment or a proper critique of his songs. It had to be true because that was the only thought that kept the witcher content as he laid awake through the evening. Geralt didn’t know why his parting with Jaskier haunted him more than his one with Yennafer but it did. Maybe because their bond wasn’t forged mostly by magic. Maybe it was because the bard seemed like such a permanent fixture in his life now. He pondered it until dawn but when the sun rose, he still had not found an answer. The following morning, he set off on the path in search of his next contract. He had no place specific in mind so he pulled Roach in the direction of the sea and let the siren call of it pull him towards his next job.

After a few weeks of traveling, he came upon a small town not too far off from the ocean that seemingly fell on hard times, although most villages seemed to have suffered the same fate nowadays. He was met with suspicion and distrust, not that he was unused to it, but this town in particular felt very quiet and reserved for it’s immodest size. People lurked in their homes instead of out on the streets or in their gardens and shuttered their windows and barred their doors as he passed. He could tell that poverty plagued the area and the sour smell of starvation was practically suffocating. He had made to go to the inn to check if there were any contracts posted, doubtful although something was so obviously wrong here, but a movement caught his attention. Looking in the subject that caught his eye, he spotted an elderly hag waving for him to follow before promptly disappearing down an alley. Wary of the situation, Geralt hesitantly followed with his hand ready at his sword. The woman kept ahead, only glancing back occasionally to make sure he followed, as she led him to a hut at the edge of the town. The door was left open behind her in invitation for him to follow but caution had him pausing just outside the hovel. 

“Scared Witcher?” The bemused voice of the hag called out when he neglected to follow. 

He grunted in response and crossed the threshold. Staying near the door, he crossed his arms as he waited to hear what the woman had to say. 

“Not very talkative I see.” She spoke again as she settled atop an old stool in front of a decrepit hearth. He hummed with a frown, which only seemed to amuse her more before she continued on. “No work lies in the town for you Witcher, nor does a warm welcome. Poverty has cast a dark shadow on the folk of this place and they do not take kindly to strangers nor are they willing to pay them since they already have so little to spare. But I have a contract for you, which I am willing to pay greatly for if you are able to complete it fully.” 

Geralt mulled over the words, doubtful of her promises due to her current state but curiosity won. He wondered what kind of job demanded such a steep price and so he nodded for her to continue.  
The hag grinned softly, a deep sadness in her eyes shown as she spoke. “There is a keep hidden deep in the forest. Within lies a curse that stretches out and brings ruin to the village. None can get close though, for a beast lurks in the stone halls of the old ruin. My magic has gone and been taken from me when the calamity hit. I was left with nothing but to grow old in this town, being the only one to remember the curse and the keep’s existence. If you can end the curse, I will be able to reward you with whatever you may desire once I have my magic back.”

Geralt thought over the offer but something was off. There was something still missing from her story. “If the misfortune only reaches the town, why not just leave? It wouldn’t have a hold over you then.”

“Ah yes… Sadly I must remain because all those who were in the town at the time of the curse are now held prisoner by it. We cannot escape even if we wanted to. Usually this place is forgotten and hidden by the spell from travelers but it seems you may have been destined to come here.” She clarified with a cheeky smile, the glint in her eye making him uncomfortable. 

“What is the creature? It’s type?” He asked brusquely, wanting more details then the scraps she gave before he headed out. If he could, he would like to prepare for a potential battle or at the very least know what to expect when he arrived. 

“None like any that you have heard of to be sure.” She responded lightly before awaiting his decision quietly.

A part of him told him to leave and not look back but a very small traitorous voice in the back of his mind pointed out that this was a way to get his--the bard back, if only to make sure he hadn’t died on the mountain. So he found himself nodding in acceptance and being directed on how to get to the keep. 

As he made his way deeper into the forest, the sun slowly disappeared behind the thicket of trees, which seemed magical in nature due to the fact that the leaves on the trees wane more and more as though winter was setting in. He also had to be mindful of the underbrush for Roach’s sake. The nearer they drew, the more bramble bushes and winding tangles of thorny vines appeared. By the time he exited the forest onto the grounds of the keep, the air had chilled and snow fell blanketing the world in silence. No sound of birds or foraging animals penetrated the suffocating silence. “Yeah, definitely cursed…” He huffed quietly to Roach.

The witcher slowly made his way through the gardens which, although covered in thick blankets of snow, had hundreds of roses blooming all around. He found a small stable to shelter Roach in while he dealt with whatever beast laid in the keep and the curse. Making his way through the hold proved easy, too easy. No traps or surprises waited around every corner. That made him worry all the more though. If the source of the magic that imprisoned the town was here unguarded, then that meant whoever cast it was certain their beast could dispose of any threat that may come. Another peculiar fact that Geralt took notice of was that there were no signs of previous battles in the halls. Only beautifully crafted and luxurious objects fit for royalty with all their gilding and detail lay about along with vines of roses which crept through the cracks, taking home amongst the decorative stone carvings. He ignored the warm well lit rooms, obvious traps with their enticing music and delicious smelling foods. Instead, he made his way further in. When it came to a divide in the two wings, he went to the west which lay in disrepair compared to the other. The welcoming cheer disappeared as he passed broken furniture and ripped portraits. Even in all the wreckage, there was still no sign of blood, and dust invaded his senses, keeping him from scenting out what creature may be lurking. Down the vast walkways, staircases, and passages, all the rooms were worn and barely accessible. With every passing second, Geralt’s anticipation grew, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he expected an attack and yet still none came. 

The final room he came to seemed to be the master bedroom which he cautiously crept into. The bed was a mass of tatters and heaps of cloth, not that unlike a nest, and the rest of the furniture had been reduced to splintered piles of wood and metal. The object that caught his eye though was a faintly glowing bell dome that looked frosted over in ice as it sat on a small lone table in front of the windows. It felt like he was being pulled towards it. That was it, it had to be, the source of this curse. A creeping anxiety filled him as he crept closer to the object. This was all too easy and still no sign of the monster. When he was right in front of the delicate glass, he paused briefly to take in the wilted rose, if you could call it that, that only had a singular petal still attached to the stem. A sense of loss and mourning filled him as he reached out. 

Before his hand could touch the glass however, a growl snapped him back to the room around him. He turned quickly, unsheathing his sword and striking the creature that had leapt at him from its hiding place near the bed. His sword thrust with a meaty thunk into the center of the monster’s chest. Decades of hunting and swiftly taking down monsters meant his aim was true and there was no saving the beast now. It was only as the beast crumpled to the floor did Geralt notice it’s claws had been retracted, showing it had had no real intention to harm. If it had wanted to, it could have easily snuck up on him while he was enthralled by the dome and gotten in at least one good hit. “Fuck…” He swore under his breath, realizing his mistake and stooping low to get a better look at the creature.  
It’s body was like that of a lion but it had swirling horns that curled back over it’s mane and it’s pelt was as black as the charcoal left from a forest fire. It struggled to turn onto it’s back, wheezing wetly, until Geralt took pity on it and helped. Lichen grew in patches along the horns and across its face and pelt, one eye almost completely covered. It blinked blearily up at him as it coughed up the blood that was starting to pool in it’s lungs. He didn’t know what to do, the beast did not seem crazed or ferocious. When he looked it in the eye, all that showed was mournful regret.

The creature breathed deeply to collect itself before it opened it’s jaws and the voice of a man came out. “I am finally free-- ” It paused to cough before continuing. “You have saved… me from my torment--” Another coughing fit came and went. “But I fear the curse is yet undone… You--” The creature’s breath stuttered and a large claw fisted in Geralt’s shirt, pulling him down so he could hear it’s final whisper. “--You will be the making of your own curse… break it before the last petal falls.” As it’s voice petters out, the beast goes limp as it’s life falls away.

Geralt barely had time to process the words before a burning in his chest bloomed and rapidly made its way out to his limbs. He felt like he was burning alive just before his vision went black. When he came to, he felt heavy. Heavier than normal and his body ached as though he had just burned through one of his potions. He slowly ambled to his feet, feeling his armor shift in odd ways but the heavy weight of his medallion was missing. Before he could truly go into a frenzy searching for the silver piece, the small table caught his eyes. Instead of the frosted bell glass, a bird cage now stood in its place, the frost mingling with the silver that made up the twisting and curving bars that reminded him of the twisted thorn vines from the forest. As he stepped closer he saw the wilted flower was no more, instead replaced by a small bouquet of… Buttercups? Where the door of the cage should have been, the shape and design of his medallion sat. Upon seeing this, the witcher felt something heavy lower in his chest. He scrambled for any kind of reflective surface, noting his hands were now large white furred claws, thankfully still with opposable thumbs. Grabbing a shard of mirror from beside the bed, Geralt stared at the monster who looked back. The large yellow eye shown out from the thick white fur, dark horns curved back over his head, and large sharp teeth shown through when he grimaced. The mirror slipped from his hands as he stumbled and sat down heavily on the bed frame which groaned in response. He thought over the beast’s last words as the cold crept in around him. 

The anguished howl echoed throughout the seemingly enchanted woods. All the animals quieted in fear while a young man hastened in the direction of the cry. The curiosity called out to him and drew him closer to a castle he had not noticed before. He needed shelter for the night from the sudden cold storm that had brewed and the blue and yellow flowers nestled in the snowy gardens were enchanting. He wondered what he would find inside as he came upon the darkened doors as night settled in around him. The snow now fell steadily and he wondered what destiny had in store for him.


	2. Beauty of the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier has once again thrown himself into a dangerous adventure, unaware of what awaits him in the enchanted ruins of a mysterious keep. He may regret it come morning but for now he will just have to deal with the night and all it brings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our boy is finally here. Jaskier is in for a ride the, the poor bard, but he asked for this. Also may get a little spooky? Maybe? Just a heads up for anyone just in case.

Jaskier wandered through the forest, dazed and confused. One minute he knew he had been on his way somewhere upset and at a loss for inspiration and the next, poof, he was just upset and still at a loss for inspiration. He couldn’t remember why though either. He couldn’t remember much actually… other than the fact that Jaskier the bard was as good as dead! Figuratively of course, physically he was as fit as a fiddle. That is, if he continued on this way. He knew he had no motivation to write or really to even sing. His mood just wasn’t there for composing a masterpiece and for the life of him, he couldn’t remember why. A horrible ache in his heart was definitely there though but not the good kind, the kind that one could turn into a fabulously dramatic epic tragedy of lust and loss.The kind where one could enjoy it before saying c'est la vie, it was nice while it lasted and then moving on with life. No. This ache was the kind of true heart wrenching rejection and lost love described only in the truly legendary tales that left the audience weeping and the writer heart broken enough to fade out from the world of music completely...Except he couldn’t remember what caused it. One would think that such a thing or person would have been very memorable. 

Jaskier was almost too lost in thought at that point to notice the chill setting in around the forest he was still trekking through as he bemoaned his anguish mentally. “Curious…” His soft murmur drifted in the cold air for a moment before being muted by the dense foliage. The bard looked around in wonder as he observed the frost that had gradually grown on the trees ahead. Glancing back, he confirmed that the forest he had been passing through showed no signs of winter while the ones ahead lost more of their leaves to snow and ice the deeper in it went. Oh what a splendidly magical surprise was this! Was fate handing him his new bardic inspiration he wished for on a silver platter? Ecstatic, he marched onward, deeper into the wintery depths. 

Uncaring at the time of any potential danger that may await him, Jaskier walked for what felt to be hours. The forest lighting was dim at best, which had him tripping and stumbling while thistles and thorns caught his clothing and skin, much to his dismay. But he pressed on feeling as though something were pulling him forward towards an unknown destination. The soft noises of the forest, which had been the only comfort to his nerves, suddenly disappeared as an anguished howl shattered through the crisp air. As soon as it came, it disappeared and the bard found himself running as fast as his legs would carry him in the direction it had come from. 

He finally slowed as he emerged out into what appeared to be a garden, which was absolutely bewitching. There were flowers of all kinds in all shades of blues and yellows, only a few Jaskier knew the names of, peeking out from where they were nestled in the thick blankets of snow. He didn’t spend long marveling at their beauty because the snow began to fall harder around him as the night set in. When it had gotten so late, Jaskier had no idea, but he feared he would soon be an ice sculpture if he stayed outside in his lighter traveling clothes for even a moment longer. 

As he approached the dark looming doors of the keep, his heart began to flutter restlessly with nerves that really should have been there when he entered an enchanted forest to begin with but curiosity had driven him forward. And it was the same curiosity that had him tentatively knocking only for the door to slowly drift open. “... Definitely not creepy.” He huffed under his breath as he slipped into the dark entryway. The inside was dilapidated but not as bad as he had expected. There was some rubble and a few places where the wind could slip in but most of the stone sculptures and furnishings were intact. He had played in some of the greatest courts and seen exquisitely executed pieces but he had never seen anything like this. Such craftsmanship! Each piece had been delicately carved with the motifs of vines, fruits, and flowers which were painted with soft pastels and gilded with either gold or silver. The gilding hadn’t even been over used as to be gaudy as some nobles often had it, but it was subtle and refined. He couldn’t linger too long however because the frigid draft slipped straight through his clothes and left his bones aching. The warm golden glow emanating down the hall from a room looked enticing and drew him in. 

He stepped into the room where a fire roared in the extravagantly designed hearth, keeping the chill at bay. In the center of the room, a lavish dining table was set, brimming with foods of all kinds, which had his stomach growling from the aroma alone. He debated for less than a minute on whether or not he should chance eating the suspiciously mouthwatering food before he was digging in, potential thrall be damned. He was starving and it was delicious. After he sated his appetite, he moved to stand near the fire to warm up more. He considered briefly if he should pull a chair over or not and he decided, yes. Yes, he very much should, so his aching feet could finally have a rest. Upon turning around though, a plush armchair that had not been there a moment ago was now waiting invitingly for him to settle in. 

“Alrighty then… Either this place is haunted, I’m going crazy, or it’s enchanted. I’m really hoping for the latter of the three.” He spoke aloud to the empty room, but it helped keep the fear that was slowly clawing up his spine at bay. The stone woodland creatures decorating the place really did not help either. It now felt like he was being watched but there hadn’t been signs of any inhabitants yet, only the lavish furniture and decorations.

A part of him wanted to flee into the night, cursing himself for ever being dumb enough to run towards the howl and entering the obviously magical castle, but the other more adventurous side reminded him of all the amazing tales he could spin from this. There was no decision to make anyway, really, because even if he wanted to leave, outside was dark, snowing, and filled with whatever made that howl that would most likely eat him if he didn’t freeze to death first from getting lost in the maze-like trees. He was stuck here for at least the night. He set down his pack and lute, grabbed a goblet of wine, and sat in the rather inviting looking chair. It felt like heaven as his body melted into the plushy embrace and it almost felt like the chair settled with him. 

He hadn’t meant to doze off after finishing his glass but he must have been exhausted. The sounds of shuffling registered in his groggy mind but when he opened his eyes, the sounds stopped. The fire had reduced to embers and the food gone he noted as he looked around but no one to be seen. “Hello?” He called out tentatively, hoping for a response that never came. “I didn’t mean to intrude, I just needed refuge from the storm…” He tried again, slowly standing and grabbing his things. 

He ducked his head out into the hall trying to catch sight of whoever had just been in the room with him but there was no one in either direction. The feeling of being watched had only gotten worse since he awoke but it was also now accompanied by the feeling that he was being followed. Jaskier was, understandably, not fond of that as he stepped fully out into the hallway deciding he might as well find a room to sleep in. At least it would be more private. The sound of creaking wood and something scuffing across stone echoed out through the dark passage, nearly getting Jaskier to jump out of his skin. If he didn’t get early grey hair from this, nothing could. His pace quickened as he tried to find the stairs, wondering about the merits of being eaten alive or freezing to death. At the stairs, he took them two at a time and went straight into the east wing which actually looked habitable in comparison. However, as he reached the peak of the stairs he caught sight of a small grey and white mottled pelt disappearing around a corner further down the hall. Jaskier decided it would be wise to take the first room found that appeared unused and habitable.

He shut the heavy door and softly stepped through the very dim chambers. He didn’t have flint readily available so he set his pack on the bed intent on searching for the object he needed. Only as he dug through his possessions did the fireplace blaze to life behind him. His blood ran cold as he looked back to find the room still empty. “If this place is haunted and the ghosts are angry I’m here, then I would kindly ask all present that you leave me alone and I will be gone in the morning. I would find it terribly inconvenient if you killed me… and blood leaves terrible stains…” He attempted to joke with a false bravado he didn’t even remotely feel. Yet the silence remained undisturbed. He huffed after a few minutes, choosing to push it from his mind and just go to bed. If he gets murdered in his sleep then he can’t very well stop it. 

The bedding looked thick and inviting, pelts covering the foot of the bed for extra warmth if needed. He stood his precious lute carefully against the bedside table and placed his pack beside it. He stripped down to his smallclothes and jumped onto the bed to tightly shut the curtains of the canopy. Sliding under the covers, he wondered what exactly he had gotten himself into. He didn’t know if he should stay or go come the morning, but as the darkness and silent night settled around him, he could no longer ignore the ache in his chest that persisted if not grew stronger. It felt like something or someone was missing from his daring adventure. The one that usually made him feel safe in any situation, but the more he tried to reach out and grasp the image or name of the person, the further it floated away. After a while of trying to conjure up the memory of the one who made his heart hurt, he gave up. His head stung like he had been pulling on thorn vines like the ones he’d seen in the forest. Which reminded him that he never checked the damage the plants had done to his clothing and his person while he had been running. He sighed. Another thing to deal with come morning. His thoughts drifted for a while after that as he tried to lull himself to sleep but the first three times he almost fell into sleep's sweet embrace, a creak or a scuttling sound pulled him back. Eventually, he buried his head under the covers and let himself be reclaimed once again by sleep. 

It felt like only minutes passed when he awoke again, sadly not to the light of day but rather the light of a lantern which shown through the now open curtains at the side of the bed. His sleep addled mind raced to take in everything: The windows showed it was just barely dawn as the sun lazily awoke the sky in vibrant reds and purples. He had been certain that he had closed the drapes of the bed fully last night. Oh yes, and then there was the lantern he was pretty sure he never lit floating just over the edge of the bed as he blinked up at it. Or rather, it wasn’t floating but being held aloft in the air. His eyes followed up the arm of the lantern’s bearer to their face but where Jaskier had expected the face of a man, large yellow eyes like cut citrine glinted out from thick white fur… Oh right, and then there were the teeth. The rather large sharp teeth on full display as the beast grimaced down at him. When the thought of being murdered in his sleep crossed his mind last night, he did not intend it as a silent wish to be granted by some god with a sick sense of humor.

Much like the rest of the situation, the bard had not been expecting a very large creature to be the one living here much less for it to talk but so far, only the unexpected had continued to happen. So he took it in stride as it’s maw opened and the gruff, attractive voice of a man came out. “... Jaskier?” It sounded more confused than angry, which the bard would happily take. He couldn’t help but think it could have been worse, but hey, at least the place wasn’t haunted, right?

Jaksier opened his mouth, intending to apologize and maybe figure out a way to wiggle his way out of his current predicament so he could promptly grab his things and flee, but what came out was “Ah! So even magical beasts living in ruins in the middle of nowhere have heard of me!”. Which is when he had found out that his tongue was in fact a traitor trying to get him killed. After a beat of silence that followed, the bard decided to amend his words and try again. “Are you going to kill me?”

Not much better but he’d take it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty, so these to will deal with all the surprise and confusion in the next chapter. Feel free to leave a comment and let me know what you think. <3
> 
> I also wanna thank Sopiakuso1 for being the beta of this chapter as well.


	3. Thorn in my Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt gets use to his new state of being and can't make up his mind. Meanwhile, Jaskier is his ever charming self in the face of a potentially disastrous situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly shorter chapter this time but the next will be longer, I promise. Moreover, I have a weakness for Geralt being an idiot about feelings as does a particular Bard. Also, just a dash of angst to spice things up cause you can't have an omelette without crying over your stove at 3 am wondering how you had gotten there.

Geralt sat in the quiet wreck of the room just trying to contemplate his current predicament. How he had fallen so far, he didn’t know but he supposed he was always trying to get back to what was supposed to be normal. The thing is, he wasn’t really sure what was normal anymore, much less if he really wanted it. For the longest time, he had known he was supposed to walk the path alone. Then Jaskier walked into his life. After that happened, it seemed like he was cursed for having the bard as a companion. He thought Jaskier needed to leave him so things would just go back to the way they were before, but now that he was gone everything felt wrong. His world kept turning on it’s head every time he thought he had the hang of it and he wasn’t really sure of what he wanted at that point. He supposed there was no point in trying to figure it out now though, everyone was gone and it was decided for him. 

He sighed and stood finally, trying to get used to the feeling of his new form. He was certainly bigger, which was saying something. He was also probably much stronger now too but his gait felt weird now that his legs were shaped more akin to a wolf’s. His gaze swept around the room trying to take everything in once more in case there was anything he missed before. Anything that could help him figure out how to break the curse.There was still the cage with the buttercups inside and the ruined furniture but nothing too out of the ordinary. One strange detail however, or lack thereof he supposed, was the absence of the beast’s blood on the ground where it had died. In fact, there wasn’t even a body to be found. It was just gone. The only object left in its place now was a cluster of dried vines with sharp barbs and dead, dried up roses. “...Creepy.” Geralt hummed in agitation. For what had seemed to be only a moderately annoying job at first, it had turned into something far bigger and more troublesome than he had expected. Not to mention it was all because he wanted to get the damned bard back! He realized a moment later that his chest was rumbling in a low growl, strange but not completely foreign. He took a deep breath and let the rising emotions out as a sigh. No. It wasn’t the bard’s fault in any way. If anything, it was his own because he acted horribly and took his frustrations out on the only man, other then the other wolves, who had stayed by his side through thick and thin. Not to mention, he would have most likely taken the job anyway. He was a monster but he wasn’t completely heartless, at least he thought he wasn’t. If he hadn’t yelled on the mountain top, then he’d at least have a companion in this mess. No, he was alone to figure it out. Just like he wished… 

He sighed again, pulling himself from his reflections, as he rummaged for anything helpful. It took a few minutes but his work bore fruit in the form of a small worn leather bound journal that had been hidden behind a ripped portrait of a man and a woman. When he went to open it though, the door slowly creaked open. He quietly tucked the small book back into it’s hidey hole and went to investigate. It was later then he realized since the halls were now pitch black from night fall but with his enhanced sight, he could still see pretty far down. The passage was empty, but a curious scent that hadn’t been there prior now faintly drifted down the hall. If there was another beast he was actually supposed to kill lurking about, then he was going to be furious. 

He stepped a foot out into the hallway, intending to quietly skulk down the passage to catch whatever thing was still present in the keep, but the sconces on the walls burst to life. A lesser, poorly trained human would have possibly had their heart stop right then and there but the witcher only felt his hackles rise. With a huff of displeasure, Geralt swiftly went down the hall, torches lighting ahead as he went further and extinguishing behind. So… Whatever enchantment that filled the old castle was also directly tied to the curse now on Geralt. He didn’t like it but it wasn’t like it was that surprising. He tracked the foreign scent to the stairs where it branched off in two directions, one faint trail went into the east wing while the other went down to the first floor. Both were barely there, most likely some time had passed since the thing passed through, so he hazarded a guess and went down. 

To his disappointment, all he found there was moving furniture in what he assumed was the dining room, slowly setting up what looked to be breakfast. At least now he knew he wouldn’t starve. The furniture didn’t seem alive either per say, but each piece had little quirks as they seemed to be puppeted around by invisible hands. With everything so far, he wasn’t surprised by magical furniture really, just tired and unamused. Jaskier would have found this fucking delightful and the thought made Geralt glare harder at the innocuous objects shifting about. He left back towards the stairs to follow the second trail, grabbing a lantern on the way in hopes that the wall torches wouldn’t light if he carried a source of light with him. He didn’t need to spook whatever it was or give away his position.

His hunch about the lantern proved correct and as he approached a bedroom door, the scent got stronger. His hand paused on the door handle. He realized suddenly that he knew this scent but he couldn’t place it in his mind. Everything smelled so much stronger after he changed, as if the magic made it ten times worse. It felt like he could see the fucking scents drifting in the air. He tried to shrug it off before finally entering the room. The approaching dawn slightly lit the lavish space. The fire was just coals and embers now and the bed had the hangings shut. The scent was thicker the closer he got to the bed, coating the back of his throat, the drapes too thick to see through. He quietly crept around the side and noticed a… lute? Geralt felt his heart quicken before he snatched at the curtains of the bed and pulled them open, confirming the sudden creeping suspicion of who was laying there. His-- The bard that had been hanging heavily over his thoughts for weeks laid there, rumpled and blinking blearily up at him. He couldn’t back the shocked exhaled whisper. “ Jaskier?...” 

The bard seemed frozen as he looked upon Geralt and took everything in. The witcher felt uncomfortable as the other observed him as if he were some specimen. Obviously, the man could at least recognize his voice but perhaps his tired brain needed a moment to catch up. The words that followed just further confused the hell out of Geralt though. “Ah, so even magical beasts living in ruins in the middle of nowhere have heard of me!” Geralt flinched at the word beast that was thrown at him but the bard’s proud exclamation soothed the hurt a little with it’s familiarity. It was just like the little idiot to preen about a monster knowing his name but it still flustered Geralt that his voice hadn’t clicked in that cute idiotic brain of his. Wait, cute? “Are you going to kill me?” 

The soft concerned words had Geralt’s blood running cold. Kill? Yeah Geralt may have hit Jaskier that one time but he would never-- Did the bard lose all trust in him because of what happened on the mountain? Still! It was a little extreme to think Geralt could ever kill him, much less wound him in any significant way… Then again, hadn’t he? What were harsh lashing words if not another form of hurt. Geralt struggled to find his voice again then. “No, Jask--”

He found his words being cut off all of a sudden before he could finish what he had wanted to say. “Then am I your prisoner?”

The new question had Geralt shaking his head. “No, I--”

Again he found his explanation interrupted, drawing a frustrated growl out of him. “You’re not very beastly or monstrous as one would expect from your appearance.”

Geralt paused a moment to see if the other would continue and when nothing came, he tried once again to speak. “That’s because I’m not--”

“A beast? Oh!” Geralt was seriously reconsidering the no harm thing as the bright voice piped in yet again. “Then I am going to assume you’re either cursed or under some sort of spell! I bet I’m right, I usually have a good eye for these things.” False. “Did you upset the wrong witch? Sleep with her and then her sister? Or was it more of the case that you slept with her intending it only to be a one time thing but you forgot to mention--” The bard was blathering on like his usual self, digging for details for his next song but still something felt off. “-- it was a one time thing? Almost happened to me once. Not at the same time I assure you but on two separate occasions, you know?” Geralt did know. He had had to stop each witch at the time, pulling Jaskier out of the fire just before the idiot got cursed. “Not one of my better moments when I was in the prime of my youth… Can’t for the life of me remember how I got out of those sticky situations though…” 

That was the final straw that broke the horses back and sent red flags sailing in Geralt’s mind. Jaskier quite often brought up either or both of those stories around a campfire as he reminisced about the early days of their friendship. It was ridiculous that he couldn’t remember such a big detail of the tale. That meant… maybe the bard really couldn’t remember the sound of Geralt’s voice, much less Geralt himself. That thought unnerved the Witcher more than anything ever had. Maybe the curse was starting to affect him because he was so close to the source. Geralt decided right then that he had to get the man out of there fast. He realized he had been spacing out and Jaskier was already almost completely dressed but still talking. “Anyway, how about I help you break whatever this is and once you’re free, you’ll allow me to turn it into an epic lyrical tale!” He proposed, all flourish and grandeur, but his eyes belied his fragile hopes and wish for companionship. It almost had him accepting but Geralt couldn’t let the other get trapped with him. 

So he grunted, shaking his head. “No.” He growled with a deep rumble in his chest, trying to avoid the sight of the bard deflating slightly. Instead, he busied himself by snatching up Jaskier’s pack and lute. When he turned, he found Jaskier in the pose he often struck when he was about to argue and act like a stubborn ox. So Geralt threw him over his shoulder like he weighed nothing. It earned him an indignant squawk which turned into a delighted gasp of “You’re so fluffy and warm!” but he ignored the human’s wiggling in favor of sweeping down the stairs and out of the castle into the gardens. He’d get the bard to leave, even if he had to toss the man into the forest himself. The very idea had a part of him chewing him out and screaming that he was an idiot, but he hushed that part by reminding himself that this was for the best. It’d be safer for the fragile bard if he left, and once Geralt had broken the curse, he would track Jaskier down again so he could actually try and patch things up. His plans, however, stopped in their tracks when he reached where the edge of the forest should have been. Instead, a great wall of thistle and thorn blocked any possible exit, which meant there was no escape now. “Fuck…”

“So about that curse…” Jaskier piped up as Geralt tried to process the new situation they were in. He growled lowly as he set the smaller man back on his feet and shoved his things at him before turning to head back inside. If they were now trapped together, then Geralt wanted to keep to himself and be alone. He couldn’t stand Jaskier looking at him and talking to him as if he were a stranger again. It made something unfamiliar settle in his chest like a weight. The last thing he heard before entering the keep was Jaskier calling after him. “Does this mean I can stay?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next episode we have Jaskier clawing his way into Geralt's life whether the witcher wants it or not. Jaskier is very determined. I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter, curtousy of my beta Sophiakuso1, and if you have any comments or suggestions let me know.


	4. Gardens that whisper and halls that watch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I asked my beta for help writing this chapter's summary and she gave me "Jaskier has an ADHD day". Thank you my dear. Very helpful. Or Jaskier tries to help figure out how to break a curse with nothing to go on while Geralt is nowhere to be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! My beta had work and need sometime off but to make up for it, you get a longer than usual chapter with FEELINGS. Also Sophiakuso1 fought me about the chapter name and so it's official alternate name is "Jaskier's Grand Adventure". I hope she's happy.

“Does this mean I can stay?” Jaskier called after the retreating beast. The only response he got was a door closing in his face, metaphorically speaking seeing as he was a few dozen yards away from it, which was as good as a yes in his books. All in all though, the situation had worked out remarkably well. He wasn’t dead or likely to be maimed and the Beast had the bard’s company to keep him entertained now that it was apparent Jaskier couldn’t leave. It was a win-win as far as he was concerned and, seeing that there was no one else in the present company, he could continue to occupy the room he had chosen last evening. Which reminded him, he was only mostly dressed and still standing dumbly at the edge of the garden with all his things in his arms. Right. Well, as lovely as the crisp winter air was this fine… dawn, he’d rather be inside where it was a little cozier or at least fully dressed. 

Hurrying back inside, he decided his first few tasks should be to put his things back in his room and finish dressing, as well as tidy the room so as not to be rude. He may have been a surprise and maybe even an unwanted guest, but he wouldn’t be an unkempt one. Upon entering the room however, the hearth was lit, the curtains to the bed drawn, and the linens were made up neat and tidy. Which surprised Jaskier, but the beautifully tailored cornflower blue doublet with cutely embroidered little yellow buttercups, matching breeches, and a delicate white lace chemise completely baffled him. He couldn’t help the soft smile that played on his lips. For as gruff and cold as the beast was, it would seem he was awfully kind and sweet. Perhaps the sudden insistence on the bard’s departure had to do something with concern over his well being. Perhaps the curse? He had felt like he had been watched all night but the Beast wouldn’t have let him sleep soundly for as long as he had if his reaction from earlier was anything to go by. 

Jaskier thought over several ideas about the curse as he got redressed in the new clothing but nothing settled right with him. He needed more details but he was now fully determined to help the gentle beast. Getting information out of his stoic companion may prove to be tough, however, so there was always the second option. Snooping! He was terribly good at it, almost as good as he was at fooling people into believing he was a bumbling buffoon before ripping the rug out from under them for his own personal gain. He may be foolhardy with a dislike of bodily harm but he was quick witted and silver tongued. Both were qualities that could prove useful now.

Once dressed, he was ready to go find answers. He briefly debated whether or not he should grab his lute, but the constant itch to play had dulled as the pain in his heart grew, so he left without it. Knowing where to start was rather tricky, however. The gardens were enchanted ,but obviously there was something going on in the keep as well. Then there was always the tail from the night prior that disappeared around a corner further down from his room. It couldn’t have been the Beast’s Jaskier thought. The pelts were different. His Beast’s pelt was white as lilies or fresh fallen snow while the tail had not been. It was silver like a moon lit lake with dapples of gray and black on the surface. 

He decided a strange creature was always the way to go and if he got into trouble, he knew he could call for help. If the beast wanted him dead then he would have killed him already. Letting a monster or wild animal kill him seemed rather contrary to his actions. So, off he went down the hall. He looked high and low, squeezed through broken doors and under debris, as little as there was, but came up short. No magical looking artifacts, or sigils on the walls or floors, and certainly no other living beings to be seen. He couldn’t even find a measly journal or letter to boot. Just dust, old lavish rooms, and literature that was rather unextraordinary. He huffed as he scuffed the heel of his boot on the stone floor in disappointment, backtracking the way he had come. The Beast was also nowhere to be found which made his spirits drop further. The bard hoped he wouldn’t be avoided the entire time, it would be awfully lonely.

Deciding his next stop was the magical gardens, he picked himself up and bolstered his thoughts. The day was far from done, and there were still places to look and time to ingratiate himself with the other fellow. Now Jaskier realized that it may take a while to look through the grounds but he had underestimated just how big they were. The front was already large as it reached from the house to the treeline in a few dozen yards, but the garden around the back was almost maze-like and he wasn’t sure he could see the treeline from near the back entrance. The back also held a variety of flowers that hadn’t appeared in the front but there was no rhyme or reason to what was planted. Most nobility had an aesthetic they wished to achieve with a very particular color scheme, which the front gardens had, but which the back garden lacked completely. There were only fourteen flowers, as far as he could see, that bloomed all over the place. No others. No order. It all proved to be a very odd sight. Perhaps they had some kind of use or significance? Off hand he knew the blue hydrangea symbolized a frigid heart apologizing and the yellow Asphodel meant I’m sorry, which he may or may not have made use of, but he couldn’t remember the others off the top of his head. The only reason he bothered to learn the symbolism of botany, which was not a popular art across the continent but it did exist and was rather interesting, was because it was an aid to lend depth to his prose and lyrical tales… and it came in handy when trying to charm a person of higher status than he, but their magical or alchemical properties still eluded him. There wasn’t much need for that knowledge earlier in life, which he was regretting now. There were some books inside if he remembered correctly so he could gather a sample of each flower and see if any lady squirreled away a journal with writings of flowers which he could use to look them up. Thankfully, the canary yellow cloak he grabbed, which had rested conveniently by the entrance, had rather deep hidden pockets. So, away he went, carefully collecting flora for later use. 

In the middle of the collecting specimens, a nasty little thistle caught his finger as he went to pluck it. A drop of scarlett welled up on his fingertip before he placed the finger in his mouth and used the other to pluck the offending sprig. The shock of the sudden pain was only matched by the surprise that nearly stilled his heart for a beat as he righted himself. To his right, a lynx with a pelt that shined like liquid silver stood just down the path leading into the garden maze. If that wasn’t a big sign screaming freaky magic or cursed creature, then Jaskier would eat his fucking lute. As strange magical things often did, it didn’t seem inclined to make things easy for him. It suddenly took off down the footpath away from him, and he was forced to inelegantly scramble after it. “W-wait!” He tried to call after the animal but it either didn’t understand or it elected to ignore him. He skidded around corners and stumbled over gravel to stay within eyesight of the fur ball of energy. It felt equivalent to the time he had tried to catch the wayward family cat of a countess he had been rather fond of at the time and had instead made a rather marvelous spectacle of himself. He had felt like he was finally getting some of the ground between them to shorten but in his excitement, his foot caught a patch of ice that sent him toppling over and by the time he scrambled to look up, the beautiful lynx was gone. A well of disappointment filled his ribs as he knelt there in the snow, trying to regain his breath. Why couldn’t he be of any use? The thought had something in his heart twisting in old pains. Would he really be of any help to the Beast or would he just be in the way like he was back home? There was another time in his life that he vaguely remembered of him trying, fruitlessly it would seem, to be of help but it was so muddled in his memory that he couldn’t fully recall.

Disheartened, Jaskier eventually got his feet under him and slowly picked his way out of the maze from the way he came with only damp, cold clothes to show for his efforts. With how heavy the snow fall was, he couldn’t even find any mark or indication of which ways he needed to turn to come back, if he so had the desire. In the spring, it might have been a lovely place to spend hours wandering through with a beloved or chase one another through in the way of a romantic overture, but now it just felt like a cold tedious exercise in futility. It was like if you were trying to navigate the cold heart of the one you knew would never choose you. At first you have hope but with every dead end, your heart breaks more, and you eventually have to give up because you’re cold, wet, and alone, with no one to hug you better. Sadly this seemed more common than not in life. The heart always yearns for something it could not have, so to soothe it, you settle for cheap thrills and single nights of sweet lies. Oh how terribly morose he had become in life and obviously these were observations that had nothing to do with him personally. So lost in his mournful rumination, he had not realized how late in the day it had gotten until he finally emerged from the maze. The sun was already past the middle of the sky and Jaskier wondered if he was just going daft or if the days and nights were also magical in how they passed. He doubted he could unravel the complex mysteries of every magical occurrence found in the place. Not that he wanted to, since he had already had his hands full with the curse. He pushed the thought away to question at a different time. 

With low spirits, Jaskier trudged around the other side of the keep he had not taken earlier and stumbled upon a stable that looked to be in good condition. Curiosity once again pulled him forward and had him peeking inside. To his surprise, there was a lone beautiful chestnut mare, which brought a smile to his lips. Ducking in and closing out the cold behind him, he went to the horse's side. “Oh Roach!” He found himself happily exclaiming as he pet her neck which earned a soft whinny, only to stop short puzzled. Did he just call the lovely animal by a fish’s name? Why on earth would he… And now that he thought about it, how would he recognize this horse out of all the others he had seen or met in passing? He did not own a horse but still something about her pulled up memories that he couldn’t seem to reach out and touch, but which carried a fond feeling nonetheless. Perhaps she reminded him of another horse from his past that was connected to whoever he was currently having trouble remembering. If the way his heart strings tugged tighter at the thought was anything to go on, he assumed he guessed correctly. But why would he remember the horse instead of the human…? Unless the horse was the more pleasant of the two but he doubted it. Regardless, this could not be that horse. Just one that looked similar. “Oh my dear, I do truly apologize for calling you by another’s name.” He whispered as he continued his gentle stroking and slowly rested his forehead against her. The sweet thing huffed before leaning into him. Slowly he furled his arms around her neck lightly and hugged the wonderful companion who indulged him in his need of comfort. “My darling, I fear that I may not know what to do now… I’m not even sure if I can win over the dear beast of the keep…” He sighed woefully, his voice unusually small for how he was. The mare however seemed to be having none of his self pity as her head bobbed and she nickered reproachfully, but in what he assumed was an encouraging reproach. He huffed a short laugh and looked up at his new friend with a smile as he pet her neck in thanks. “You’re very right. I can’t give up after only the first day! I have plenty of time to figure things out and hopefully get the Beast to accept my help.” He said with new conviction, his spirits rising once again with the new encouragement. As a side thought, the bard never expected a beast would need a horse for any reason but perhaps it had gotten lost and was given a home here by the kind gentleman. It looked to be well taken care of though; clean stall, full fresh food, and blankets to keep away any chill that came with the fall of night. As Jaskier made his way to leave, he promised to visit again soon and he made a mental note to bring a treat of some kind as thanks. 

Crossing the courtyard to the house reminded the bard of how his clothing was soggy, and his elbows and knees were stained from the fall. He felt guilty because the Beast had left the lovely garments out just for him and he had yet to thank him. Not wanting the embarrassment of running into the other in such a state and having to explain that he had already ruined the kind gift, he quickly made for his room to get changed. Once he was inside then he could breathe freely again. Safely in his own chamber, he draped the borrowed cloak over the chair belonging to the small desk in the corner beside the fireplace and turned to find his pack to rummage for something decent to put on. To his surprise however, an outfit of midnight blue fabric with silver trimming laid on the bed. The fabric was thick but soft to the touch, and had a lovely brocade pattern of astrological symbols on it and small pearls dotting it like stars in the pattern of constellations. The chimese was a soft, dove gray, there were new boots of black, buttery leather, and fleece stockings to pull the whole ensemble together. It was such a beautiful set and he felt a little choked up at the thought that the Beast was giving him such nice things. Perhaps there was an expectation he would wear it for dinner? That meant the Beast wanted to eat together! It had the bard all the more resolute in trying to help. It was nice to receive something though. Usually he was the one always trying to give gifts to buy even a fraction of attention from young ladies of higher breeding. The only gifts he ever got were coins, or food and drink in exchange for his performance, or the threat of injury for having chased away his woes with the wrong person in one night of lonely passion. Ah, there were those sullen thoughts again. Jaskier waved them away as he washed up a bit at the small wash basin in the room and folded the soiled garments, putting them to the side to deal with later, before slipping on the lovely new clothing. He checked himself in the mirror before heading for the discarded cloak again. Intent on unraveling their secrets, he drew the cuttings from the pockets and carefully, thankful for the fact that they were mostly intact. If there were none to be found though, he supposed he could always just put a bouquet together for the Beast. Perhaps the gentle fellow just adored those particular blooms. Perhaps that was why the flowers were everywhere. The thought had Jaskier chuckling. The great big beast hunched over the flowers in the spring as he gently tended to them. The bard wondered if he would be there come the next spring to witness it. It almost sounded idyllic. He could see himself in a simple life similar to that. A cottage by the sea, flowers filling the garden, and his loved one tending to the flowers as he played soft music. A silly dream for a hopeless romantic, he would admit, but everyone was allowed just one, weren’t they?

With a sigh, he looked at the arrangement in front of him. He had grabbed the devilish little thistle that had snagged him. It looked to be a zinnia, though he knew nothing about the flower. It was a purple cluster of flowers of some kind, and a pink flower that went from soft pastel at the tip of the mouse ear shaped petal to a darker pink near the base. His knowledge of flowers was lax compared to his other, finer artistic knowledge and lessons of etiquette but he thankfully had the ability to name some of the flowers. Oddly enough, he felt like he had some practise identifying and picking medicinal flowers but he once again came to a wall in his own memory. Realizing it wouldn’t work well to try looking up flowers he had no name for, he added a plant identification reference book to his list of texts to find. He hoped in the vast space there would at least be an equally vast library of some kind that would conveniently have what he was looking for. Leaving the florets carefully laid across his desk, he left the room once again for his next search. The rooms in this upper part of the wing were particularly useless once again, aside from the small pocket journal of The Language of a Gentle Heart: Secrets of Floral Arrangement which was most likely written and titled by a starry eyed lady who needed a hobby. He found it questionable at best, but upon closer inspection, it was revealed to be a compilation of notes which were cross referenced from other sources with the meaning of flowers. Then the second small journal was more like a manual which the writer entitled The Art and Language of Flora for the use of Assassination and Deception and found under a mattress, also dubios but eye catching regardless. There was also still no sign of habitation of any of the rooms, which meant the Beast really didn’t live in this wing, or he had not been to his room at all and was hiding somewhere in the castle. Both scenarios were equally as likely at that point. Deciding to check elsewhere, he debated if there was anything of actual use in the other, more decayed wing of the keep before figuring that it’d be his last place to check if he really could not find everything he needed in the lower rooms of the fortress. 

On the lower level, Jaskier first found the kitchens all the way down past the dining room he had been in the night prior and down a set of stairs. The kitchen was obviously well used but maintained and cleaned. The kitchen led to packed larders and pantries, brimming with food which, astonishingly, all looked fresh and not in the slightest bit old. Giving up on the kitchen, he briefly ducked his head back into the dining room and found his memory was correct. It only held the partially set long dining table, the fireplace, and occasional bits of decoration to liven it up. Next to the dining room was a private cabinet for the men and a boudoir for the women. Why they had the need of two separate, gender specific rooms to let honored guests relax in was beyond him. The only mildly interesting things held within were a smattering of tapestries, trophies, and ceremonial/decorative armor pieces, as well as various apparatuses to toil away time with, such as looms and such. All of them were nice, but not so useful. Jaskier moved onto the final room on this side of the main staircase. All he wanted were books. Just give him books! The door had been stubbornly shut but he had managed to wiggle through the crack he had opened. Beyond the large opulent doors a great hall, or at least what was left of one, laid. The throne was overturned, tables were splintered heaps, and the tapestries and banners were sliced to ribbons, rendering the crest unidentifiable. It sent a chill down his back so he quickly departed from that venture. 

Crossing to the other side of the stairs, he ventured on, undeterred by the lack of progress he had made so far. Starting at the far end again, he was surprised to find a servants passageway that led up and down. Going up, he found himself in his wing of the castle and huffed before heading back down. The pathway down looked dark and damp, which didn’t seem very appealing, but he was committed so he grabbed a nearby light source in the form of a candelabra and descended. It was as damp and uninviting as he expected, but he did find a small room in the dark undercroft, obscured slightly from view, which had him wondering whether that was intentional or not. Opening the aged door, he found a stillroom of sorts. Dried plants that looked like they were left and forgotten, hung neatly around the room. There were suspicious jars and vials Jaskier specifically did not touch, but more importantly there were hand drafted journals and reference texts on medicinal plants and alchemy. He grabbed The Botanist’s Companion to The Identification of Flora, and something that had no real title but inside was filled with alchemy and lists of ingredients with their common uses. Elated to find something hopefully useful, Jaskier headed back up with his bounty and used the servants passage to drop off the books on his desk before continuing his search of the lower rooms. He also replaced the candelabra in its rightful place, of course. Next to the secret stairs, there was a large bathing house where the tubs were stored, and hot water flowed into basins for collecting. He guessed the warm water was just another magical occurrence of the place. There was enough space in the place however to just set up a bathtub and designate the room as a place to clean up if he so wished to. It was definitely a place of interest for a later time, but practically useless to his current venture. There was then a solar specifically used by the private family to withdraw to, if Jaskier remembered correctly, but about as interesting as the boudoir or the private cabinet. With only two doors to go, Jaskier felt some anticipation even with how tired he was becoming from all the running earlier and the searching.The first of the two, to his absolute delight, was a grand music hall filled with instruments of all kinds and collections of scores he could plunder through at another time. There was even a massive harp of artistry far beyond any he had seen, that was hard to find today. Most wanted them portable for ease of use but this one sat squarely where it was. He had never played a harp like it and would mostly spend hours slowly easing his way through learning the beautiful piece but it looked majestic where it stood. He didn’t have the time to mess around though but he did swear he’d be back. The sound of a string being plucked in the empty room behind him as he turned to leave only hastened his exit. The final stop--at last--revealed a library. How he managed to not find this place sooner was beyond him. He was here now though, and that's what truly mattered. The one issue, however, was that the library was in fact intimidatingly expansive. Not only could someone not read all of these books in a lifetime but it was also a major fire hazard in the bards eyes. 

Sighing in the face of his daunting task, Jaskier first tried to figure out if there was any kind of categorical system similar to what was back at the Oxenfurt College Library. To his luck, there was, but it was nothing like the complex system he had to learn. Whoever built and organized the library went with the simple method of organizing it by genre which made finding the reference texts all the easier. Although most scholars would sneer at such organization, Jaskier found it charming as he strolled through to find the reference texts and educational tutoring books for young nobles. Sifting through that section of shelves proved tedious but prolific. He found a wide range from books on the upbringing of a proper young lady to more academic texts on plants taught to young women and men alike. What he had been searching for however were books he had seen at Oxenfurt but never touched. The Herbarium and Antidotarium which were nestled amongst the rest of the books. All the books were handwritten and illustrated obviously, but these were beautiful in comparison to some. 

Gathering the two books he found, he brought them back up to his rooms. It was a start, and a very good one at that. Sadly, he wasn’t able to find any nefarious magical looking grimoires, but he could get somewhere with this… Hopefully. He set the new books neatly down with the others on the desk, and was meaning to take a seat to get started, when two thudding knocks came at his door. They weren’t so hard as to be a furious pounding, but not gentle either, and it had him only the tiniest bit concerned. He went to the door after a moment of hesitation, intending to open it, when a familiarly rough voice called out. “Are you not going to eat, Bard?” Displeased confusion had Jaskier almost panicking just before he yanked the door open. Right! The beast had left the outfit as his intention to dine with Jaskier! He had been so busy searching that he had completely forgotten. 

“Very kind of you to worry and come fetch me.” He responded, trying to flash his most charming ‘I totally didn’t forget plans’ smile up at the Beast. 

The Beast grunted and shifted from one foot to the other, directing his gaze away. “...It was getting late. That’s all…” 

“Not to worry, I was just on my way down. Got caught up with something, is all! It is nice to head down together though.” The smaller man smiled, enjoying the opportunity presented by the Beast to start a good friendship between them! He grabbed hold of the darling fellow’s arm and tugged him along to their awaiting dinner, not giving him a chance to reconsider after Jaskier’s unfortunately rude tardiness. By the heavens above him, he will break the ice between them.

Getting him there and seated was easy but as they sat at opposite ends of the ridiculously long table, Jaskier suddenly found it hard to find the words to start the conversation rolling. Who needed a table this long?! Dinner looked lovely, however, and he could easily use it as a way to fall into a comfortable food induced silence. However, yet another problem presented itself in the form of all the food being in the center of said ridiculously long table and the lack of servants. Jaskier considered options of how to fix this dilemma when the food suddenly started coming to him, or at least the dishes with the food did. Jaskier may or may not have yelped but in a very dignified manner if he did say so himself. He would admit it was not on the list of his finer moments, but it did seem to get an amused snort out of the Beast, although his mask of stoicism was still firmly in place when Jaskier looked at him. Nevertheless, the amusement still danced in the other’s gem-like eyes, and Jaskier almost wanted to clap happily at the small victory, but was smart enough to refrain. “Everything’s enchanted.” A deep rumble pulled Jaskier out of his mental victory celebration.

“What?” He questioned dumbly. Good job. Real smooth, he internally berated himself, holding back a blush. 

“All the furnishings… They’re enchanted.” The Beast clarified again, as if he were speaking to a child, but twitch of his brow belied the amusement of the fact that Jaskier had somehow not noticed. 

“Oh...Oh!” Jaskier processed the information before sighing in relief. “I am very glad to know this place isn’t haunted or filled with things trying to frighten me to death.” He joked but the thought had crossed his mind originally. “Why… Why didn’t they just move in front of me? Why only when I wasn’t watching?” He couldn’t help but ask the question out of interest. 

The Beast shrugged. “Maybe the enchantment has some weird rules when it comes to people not affected by the curse… Or they could be shy, although they’re not technically alive. They move like puppets with no strings…” The grumbled explanation was a little stilted and clumsy, but endearing in a way. It was almost as if the other was unused to speaking to anyone. The thought alone made the bard pity the Beast. The idea of ghostly puppeted furniture was still not very comforting though. 

“... Hmmm, unsettling but I suppose it’s good to know. Thank you Beast.” The comment had the other’s shoulders sagging a bit, and Jaskier immediately knew he somehow misstepped. After mentally slapping himself, he tried to salvage things quickly. “Thank you by the way.” He flashed a shy smile but this only elicited a noncommittal hum while the Beast continued to look anywhere but at Jaskier. “For the, um, clothes… It was kind of you.”

The Beast silently seemed to either ignore the words or chose not to comment as he began piling food onto his plate. Well, Jaskier supposed that was his way of dismissing the conversation, so the bard followed his example and began to serve himself. Eating, contrary to what Jaskier had thought before, left them mostly in a stilted silence. Although the Beast was large and disproportionate to the size of the cutlery, he managed to eat cleanly, but with no grace. Many people, Jaskier knew, would have been utterly scandalized by the situation, but he found himself thinking it was charming in a weird way. The bard thought he may have a second chance to reignite the conversation once they finished eating but, to his dismay, the Beast finished before him and promptly left. Now alone, Jaskier berated himself for fucking up. He felt the silence weigh in on him, the comfortable warm feeling that came with the other’s company at the beginning now abruptly gone. It left him feeling woefully abandoned to be honest. Not very hungry suddenly, Jaskier elected to retire early for the evening. 

Back in his chambers, he tried to start his work. The first step being to identify the ones he was unable to, obviously. The pink mousy petaled ones turned out to be cyclamens while the cluster of purple florets were hyacinth after a bit of searching. Somehow, looking at the deep purple of the hyacinth made his already uneasy stomach, from how dinner ended, turn. He frowned, remembering the violet eyes of a witch who, although beautiful, only inspired what felt like terribly negative feelings blooming in his chest. He sighed, pushing back in his chair and crossing his legs at the ankle. If he had to guess, it might have been jealousy that took root. It was an unkind feeling and he knew she had done nothing really to inspire such feelings, at least as far as in his mind, but his chest felt otherwise. He remembered the terrible first meeting and the barbs and jabs from early in their acquaintance but he also remembered the playful insulting and occasional companionable chats when they crossed paths later down the line of their affiliation. Then something happened and it only left a bitter taste in his mouth. He couldn’t for the life of him remember the details. He realized it wasn’t jealousy then but a moment of recognition of the fact that he would never be enough while she was. He wasn’t the one wanted, and it left him rather empty and tired from trying so hard. He sighed again as he closed his eyes and let his head fall back. He was too tired from everything that happened earlier and the low humor he now found himself in wasn’t conducive to work, so he shut the book he had been using and set everything aside so he could ready himself for sleep. He stripped of the handsome garments and folded them carefully into a dresser for another day. He chose out a large black tunic from his pack that seemed too large to be his, but put it on because it soothed him in a way he couldn’t fully understand. Nonetheless, he appreciated it. He drew the drapes closed and settled in for the night, feeling cold even with all of the blankets. The night was deep and long, but Jaskier tried to sleep away the dour thoughts and unease in his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And back to Geralt! There will be even more magic and frustration for our fine fellows. Please leave a comment if you like the story so far and I always love to hear your thoughts! <3


	5. Smoke and Mirrors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt tries to figure out how to break the curse while battling with his feeling this time. That's pretty much it. Enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lew is pronounced as Lef by the way. Just something to keep in mind cause it's Polish. Also I know I like fairytale tropes too much. I apologize. Also sorry this took so long to post, I got sick earlier this week and had to rest and not work on anything but I'm back now and ready to slow burn my heart away! Also thanks to my Beta Sopiakuso1 for take the time on this!

Geralt sat in the destroyed room that night after dinner, staring at the cage. He was specifically trying to not think about the fact that not only was the bard trapped in the cursed castle with him, but the bard also somehow lost his memory, most likely due to said curse… and it was all Geralt’s fault. The guilt swirling around in his chest was sickening and unwelcome. He just kept dragging the bard down with him. Geralt ran circles through his mind trying to figure out what he should do about the whole damn thing. After a while, he decided that it would be better at that point if he were to just stay away from the man as best as he could. If he did, then Jaskier would slowly realize he was wasting his time on a monster like Geralt, just like on the mountain. Geralt just had to figure out how to get Jaskier past the thorn vines keeping them imprisoned, but the witcher had a sinking feeling that it would require the curse being broken.

Geralt sighed, finally looking away from the silvered metal vines trapping the cluster of buttercups and realized the moon was high in the sky, much further in its journey than when he had fetched the bard to eat. It felt like he was not only losing time, but it also couldn’t move any slower. Watching the clock or trying to solve a problem in his head to pass the time was like watching tree sap drip in winter, but if he got lost in his thoughts, it flew by without him realizing. The memory of the almost completely dead rose and the warning of petals falling had dread creeping up his spine. He had a limit on his time, whether it was choosing to go fast or slow, until who knows what would happen, and it was all very similar to waiting in a dungeon for his own execution. Except this time, he had a bard to drag to his death with him and he had no idea where to even start to try and stop it… Except the weird journal! 

He wanted to smack himself for almost forgetting about its existence. He quickly collected the small book again and settled back onto the edge of the bed. He first flipped through, discovering that it was a journal of someone of the castle rather than magical notes or something of actual use, and oddly enough it only had the first few pages written in. Although it was just a journal, it reeked of magic, as did everything else in this place, which irked him a bit. Would nothing be easy?! A magical personal journal was most likely useful, but he didn’t know how yet until he actually read the damn thing. He sighed before settling further into the nest of fabric so he could at least be comfortable while slogging through the first entry that was most likely fraught with exaggerations he’d have to weed through. He did hope that more pages would fill as he read however, because perhaps there were magical inscriptions and spells on later pages… He could only hope. 

_[The Date is Unreadable]  
The years grow long since I came to my lord’s court and was given the honor of my knighthood. We have fought many battles side by side and I have completed every task, be it political or mundane, which he has given me. Although this life leaves me fulfilled, I feel as though I am missing something. I crave the companionship of another outside that of my fellow knights, my lord, and the countries that seem ever present now. Although the ladies I have been introduced to as of late are fine of figure and mind, none fill the hollow feeling that has steadily grown in my chest. _

_I almost thought all hope was lost when while I was in the village today, I came upon the fairest maiden I had ever laid eyes upon. Her delicate features and poise rivaled that of any woman I have encountered across the lands on my travels. Her timid and delicate disposition only lends to her outward appearance, for as soon as I caught sight of her eyes, I could see the wild freedom that burned within. The fierce look called out to me and it lit my soul ablaze, but before I could make my way to her across the market, she was gone. Now I am haunted by the ethereal grace the lady has left instilled in my mind._

_It is not my will to cage or steal away her free spirited nature. I only wish to partake in it with her so I may feel alive like I once did while seeing the world in a new light provided by her fire. I plan to go to my lord upon the sun’s arrival and I will beseech him to help me find her so that I may earn the permission from her family so I may be allowed to court her. I pray this evening for everything to work in favor of us all._

Geralt sighed heavily through his nose as his head fell back against the plush and he looked at the elaborate ceiling above. So far it was exactly what he feared it would be, the over-dramatized tellings of some Knight’s life that reads more like one of those sappy romantic tales Jaskier would constantly rave or sing about rather than an actual succinct telling of events. He couldn’t understand how any of this connected to the curse, but he begrudgingly decided to read on and see where he ended up. 

_[The Date is Also Unreadable on this Entry]  
The leaves on the trees have turned to the colors of fire, and the world looks as though it has been set ablaze. I have only just returned from meeting with a neighboring lord, during which time I have gone nearly half a season without even a name of my lady love. Oh how she still torments my heart day and night with her absence. It is as though she has bewitched me, and I have no hold over my own self at present. My mind is filled almost entirely by her, and my only wish, if I am unable to win her affection, is to formally meet her. _

_My lord sent word that he would make enquiries on my behalf while I was away and now that I have returned, anticipation steals my breath. My fellow knights jest that I should have followed the path of a bard for how I constantly prattle on at them, waxing poetic of her spirit and sketching her form from memory, as we travel between our destinations. Although I know it is only light fun on their part, I find myself getting sentimental as I ever grow closer to the middle of my life. I wonder deep in the night whether I would have been more suited to another life but, it is quickly dismissed as nonsensical at this stage. My lord has also made mention, as we are good friends, he feels as though we are practically brothers with how much trust he allows me, and he will be glad to hire me as the official court bard if a change of profession ever truly struck my fancy. They all mock kindly but it warms me at my core to know there are those in my life who indulge my whims._

_Still, Sir Gregor questions why I will not simply give my heart to one of the many ladies of the court who fancy me, and proclaims me mad in the head for not doing so. I have given up on trying to explain the incredible sensation she has left within me. He will never understand such yearning and passion that has filled me since I took the sight of her in for the first time. I feel pity for the man, but as I rest tonight, I hold hope in my heart for what my lord has to say come morning._

Geralt found reading this to be akin to dying slowly. Plodding through someone’s desperate yearning was the worst torture he has had to endure yet but at least there was something that hinted at magic in this passage. Geralt also observed that several pages were sketches of a beautiful woman with light hair, tawny skin, and dark eyes. He could not tell if the drawings were exaggerated by the knight’s besottment or if the woman could have possibly been fae or magic of some kind, glamoured just enough to hide the obvious parts while maintaining unnatural beauty. It could have explained why the curse magic was so strong and tricky. Magic was tricky in general, but fae magic was notoriously known for being a bitch, and he had been warned off from meddling in their affairs a long time ago for that exact reason… Now, here he was, knee deep in the shit. He’d have to figure it out one way or another. Deciding he’d be better off just reading the damn thing to completion rather than dithering on about what it could be, he turned his attention back to the book. 

To his frustration, the rest of the pages remained blank. Unable to hold in his anger from hitting one road block after another, he threw the damned thing across the room with a growl and it landed with a satisfying rustle of paper before sliding somewhere out of sight. Unable to stand laying around anymore, he got up and began pacing through the quarters barely containing his aggravation. He wondered what to do now. That had been his last lead other than the meaningless riddle the beast had given him. He wanted to go out and train so he could take his frustrations out on something, but no, Jaskier was out there thinking he was just some random beast, and Geralt really didn’t want to add to the image his form presented currently. He wanted to break the curse, but he kept hitting wall after wall! He wanted… No. He needed someone to help him fix this entire mess, but there was no way for him to contact anyone other than the man who no longer remembered him. No wolves or powerful witches or plucky bards who glued themselves to Geralt’s side day and night were there to help him this time around. 

“Fuck…” The defeated syllable slipped from his lips as he sank to the cold stone floor while holding his face in his hands, the fur feeling strange but increasingly familiar under his touch… Jaskier had called him a beast. Geralt had never thought the bard would ever-- He had been the only one who hadn’t ever called the witcher a monster or recoiled at the sight of him. On the contrary, he would often defend Geralt from villagers who called him vile names, and even went as far as to attack the truly aggressive offenders… But now the Witcher was a beast with no name. The bard’s voice uttering the word kept repeating over and over again in his head. Geralt only had himself to blame. If he hadn’t yelled, if Jaskier had still been by his side, then maybe the troubadour would have never lost his memories. 

He had been so caught up in his own spiraling thoughts, Geralt almost didn’t notice the other voice suddenly filling the room. “Oi! Mopin’ about are we?” The warbled feminine voice cleaved through the once silent space but it came from seemingly nowhere as he scanned the area. Getting up, he searched as the squawking continued up until the point he came into view of a fractured mirror that had been hidden behind a moth eaten drape. As he looked in confusion at the mirror, due to the fact that the reflection was certainly not his own, the visage of the old hag from the town moaned in disappointment and shook her head at him from behind the reflective silver backed surface. “You fool Witcher! I-- I sent you to break the curse, not become cursed yourself, you nitwit!” She scolded with an exhausting scowl. If she were in her youth, he was sure she would remind him of Yen in some ways. 

He couldn’t help growling in frustration as he met her steely scowl with his own. “How was I expected to break a curse you refused to give me proper information on?! And you seem to still have some magic, so why not do it yourself if you knew how to?!” He tried to keep himself from snarling at the hag, but she was infuriating and the worry, as well as the earlier frustrations, were just compiling together. 

She took a moment to settle herself before sighing and gathering her thoughts, he assumed. In a calmer tone, she spoke again. “I cannot tell you about the curse in depth… Only pieces, and I cannot go there like yourself.” Her voice slowly became graver as she spoke and looked him directly in the eye. No lie then…

He grit his teeth before saying anything else, more civilly as Jaskier would have called it. “Why?”

“I just can’t… but I can help you as best as I can. This ain’t your curse, but you’re stuck with it--” It suddenly occurred to him that her accent was different from when they had met in her old shack which was… Odd.

“I know. I’m the making of my own curse. The beast said it before he died. Also, why do you sound different now?” He interrupted her as his annoyance rose again. 

“Shut it, you daft tit! Don’t interrupt me when I’m trying to help!” She spat at him, shaking a frail fist at him from behind the glass while once again scowling at him. Then after a beat, she continued. “Came to these lands years ago from far off and regretted it. Folks don’t take kindly to those different, so I glamoured my voice.” She clarified with an eye roll. Yup. Definitely Yen if she were to ever age. 

He chewed over the words as he felt some of the tension seep away. “Fair… So what can you tell me that will actually be useful?” He asked, sagging slightly, the memory of Jaskier looking at him in fear and no recognition was still a fresh would in his mind. 

“Hmmmmm… Though the curse is harsh, it’s not cruel. Born of grief it was…” The hag looked as though she were fighting her own mouth before she sighed once again. “Although it imprisons, it’ll give you everythin’ you need to break the curse. Don’t be a fool. If anythin’ appears there, then it’s for a reason. Make use of it or dither till you die in a prison of your own design. Only you can figure why you’re cursed.” She spoke critically but at least it was something useful to which he nodded in thanks thinking that her image would fade then. “Witcher! If you’re in dire straits, knock thrice on the looking glass and think o’ where you wanna see, or to whom you wish to speak. Only I’ll be able to answer back, however.” She offered hastily and after he nodded again, she was gone in a blink of an eye. The mirror now only held his own beastly reflection. 

He mulled over the words, realizing the night had grown long after that disaster of a dinner and it was now the witching hour; If he didn’t try to sleep now, then he would be tired and upset the next day, and he really didn’t need himself snapping at the bard again in misplaced irritation. So, he laid in the shredded nest of a bed and thought more on Jaskier. If he was brought here for a reason, then why steal his memories? And why would Geralt ever curse himself? Perhaps the magic was twisting a subconscious thought from the back of Geralt’s mind into something strange and problematic. But still, why the bard of all people? He drifted into an uneasy sleep thinking about all the new information. 

When he woke, the world was bright outside the crystalline windows, and there was a fuzziness to the world that followed waking from a deep sleep. The room was better around him, healed of the scars of broken and shattered furniture. He supposed this had been what the hag had spoken of; the keep was providing things slowly. He moved through the morning muzzy headed, letting his body rely on muscle memory as he went through several tasks of morning preparation. His head was clearer by the time he visited Roach in the stables where she waited patiently to be tended to and given exercise. He saddled her and checked it twice over before seating himself in the saddle… which was odd, seeing as he was so much bigger now that he was cursed, but she made no indication that he was too heavy or bothersome. The fogginess was back and his concerns evaporated as he rode out into the fiery forest. The foliage in hues of red and orange rushed past as he went further and further, nearing the small hidden lake between the castle and the town. Its waters shone gold as though the water were a dragon’s hoard of coin and riches in the early hours, but the beauty of it could not compare to the figure standing at it’s banks. 

Geralt barely remembered getting down from Roach or silently moving forward to observe the figure more closely, but then his mind cleared again and realization washed over him that the figure was in fact Jaskier. The bard was peacefully gazing out at the calm waters, but he wore odd clothing that Geralt swore he had never seen him in before. Instead of his usually short doublet, he wore a well fitted jacket of some sort that trailed all the way to the floor in the back and the front, but had slits up to the hips to show his well fitted trousers and tall boots. A part of it irked Geralt to no end, because it looked good, but strange and unlike the man at the same time. It was all reminiscent of a dress yet not. It was almost a coat he could imagine Yen wearing, but the garments were a soft blue trimmed in accents of red. It was a nostalgic reminder of Jaskier’s outfit from when they first met. 

The situation was so bizarre that Geralt wanted to question what was happening but before he could think, his body took an unconscious step forward snapping a twig under his heel. Jaskier’s coat whirled around him as he spun and caught sight of him, but there was no fear in his eyes, only confusion and curiosity. “Apologies my lady, I did not mean to frighten you. I was merely curious when I spotted a figure as I rode passed. Are you all right?” What the fuck was that? Geralt understood that it was his voice that spoke but the words were not his own. Icy understanding filled his gut and he knew now that this obviously had something to do with magic. 

“Very kind of you sir. I was just wanting to enjoy the still beauty of the morning and happened upon this lake.” Jaskier smiled brilliantly at him, his voice sounding exactly how Geralt remembered but there was an edge to it that sounded off. Unnatural. This was definitely not Jaskier. 

“I… I’ve seen you in the town but I’ve never had the pleasure to meet your acquaintance in person. I hoped to speak with you, if not just hear your name. I am Lew.” Geralt introduced himself with a foreign name. That was definitely not his name, and he hated how it felt coming out of his mouth, but he seemed to have no control over himself. With dawning horror, Geralt now understood that this was someone else's memories that he was now occupying. It could have been Jaskiers, or someone else from the castle, or even the writer of the journal. Geralt couldn’t be sure yet, and the bard couldn’t be ruled out immediately since the witcher realized he knew practically nothing of Jaskier’s past… It just kept getting messier and messier as he was dragged further into the spell. Whoever wove the threads of this magic somehow got it completely tangled into a ball of shit. 

“Ania. I have only come to live here a year or so ago, which is why we most likely have yet to meet formally.” Jaskier spoke in an amused tone, but Geralt was pretty damn sure that was not his bard’s real name. It was Jaskier. Maybe it wasn’t the bard’s memories after all. Geralt was going to have a difficult time remembering this was not actually the bard himself then but only the spell filling in a face with someone he knew. It was already getting so confusing in his mind, so Geralt decided to just keep using the name attached to the face he knew instead of using the ones he’d heard. Deciding it wouldn’t do much good to fight the memory, he settled in and let everything happen around him. The troubadour looked so much softer now than when they were ever on the road though. It made something in his chest flutter, but he was unsure if it was actually him or the owner of the memory feeling it. 

The witcher found himself wanting to say more, ask more about Jaskier, but the words had left him and his mouth refused to work. It felt like it was his only chance and it was fleeting right before his eyes. The strange visage of the bard suddenly looked off into the distance behind himself before returning a sheepish look to Geralt. “I… I have to go.” His voice was hesitant as Geralt slowly reached a hand out to the man, as if not wanting the bard to leave, but still unable to find the words. Jaskier smiled gently, before biting his lower lip as though he were trying to decide something. The witcher didn’t understand why he was paying such close attention to everything Jaskier did but he was. “I hope our paths cross again, Lew.” And with that, the man fled into the forest with his jacket fluttering behind him. Geralt would have followed, curious as to if this person was human or not and get answers, but it would appear that the original “Lew” had been frozen with indecision in that moment. His heart raced, which felt strange to Geralt, but then things melted away and the Witcher was once again opening his eyes to the sunlight streaming through the windows. This time however, the room was still destroyed and the light was the cold shine of a winter morning. Geralt found himself staring up at the ceiling in complete bafflement, unable to really understand what the curse could have possibly thought he’d glean from that experience. He sat up in a huff and couldn’t help the puff of agitated words that slipped out of his throat. “What the fuck…” Then he was out of the chambers and headed for the stables to tend to Roach. If anything calmed him down and helped him to organize his thoughts, it was quality time with the mare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to forewarn everyone, I'm starting my new job at the end of the week and updates might take a little longer due to training but I will try my hardest! Let me know in the comments what you thought and if you have any suggestions! <3 Till next time darlings!


	6. Zinnias

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier makes more progress into unraveling secrets and chipping away at Geralt's heart. Please enjoy this chaotic bard's adventures!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🏵️💮I'm so sorry this took so long to post everyone! My training for this new job is long and arduous but I steal away any free time I get to write more of these chapters and I give myself the energy to go on by writing these idiots slowly realizing their love for one another. I hope you enjoy this chapter and I would love to give a big thanks to my beta who has to deal with my inconsistent chapter lengths and weird work hours! Here's to you SophiaKuso1! 💮🏵️

Jaskier awoke with a start. His dream was... odd. Straight out of a fairy tale or romantic ballad if he were to describe it. His heart so desperate for a knight, metaphorical or literal, to come into his life to love him like in every sappy poem and song he ever dealt read or sang, it went to the extent of affecting his dreams. He could feel a flush of embarrassment rushing to his face as he remembered his own mind even put him in the place of a maiden who met a dashing silver haired knight in a picturesque autumn forest. The traitor! Jaskier couldn't help thrashing his arms and legs about in the bed before finally sitting back up with a huff. He would have liked to scream in embarrassment but thought better of it seeing as it would be rude and potentially more humiliating if the Beast were to hear him and come check what was wrong. But now that he paused and thought about the hair color of his knight in shining armor in his dream, it looked very similar to the Beast’s fur. It was a wintery soft looking white that appeared as striking and fluffy as fresh fallen snow. Focusing more on it made his heart ache pitifully while also making him yearn for the company of the Beast simultaneously. He decided then that it would be better to shrug off the odd painful emotion, however, and latch onto his desire for fluffy company instead. Whatever had occurred in the past had happened, and he doubted he could change that right then, so he might as well focus on helping his hopefully new found friend... or, well, he would dearly love to make friends with the Beast. They could both really use a friend right about now. Invigorated by his new goal, Jaskier climbed out of bed ready to face the day. Whether it meant getting to spend quality time with the fellow or him filling his day dutifully studying the flowers for any hint of a connection to the curse… all by himself... He would be completely fine either way, at least he would be helping! Honestly, he didn’t mind the idea of being completely and utterly alone all day again! It’ll be great, just like his days just after Oxenfurt, except he wasn’t on the road obviously. 

He stretched in the warmth of his room, thanking whatever gods were above for granting him the luxury of having a magical fireplace to keep him warm in this cursed winter as he was setting about readying himself to face the day. Before he could even think about what to wear, he spotted another set of clothes on the trunk in front of his bed. It was almost scary how the great Beast could sneak into his room to leave gifts without disturbing Jaskier’s sleep with how big he appeared to be. The bard also couldn’t decide if it was sweet or creepy that he kept doing it, but he settled on sweet for now since he found all that fur rather endearing compared to a regular human stranger. The doublet and trousers, which were more bloomers this time, were a rich amber with burgundy accents which reminded him of the forest from his dream. The delicate embroidery on it even had a leaf motif as well. It may have been a coincidence, but he couldn’t help but smile nonetheless. The soft gauzy chemise and stockings to match the ensemble were a lovely cream color which seemed to tie it all together with soft dark brown boots that were set to the side. He gently put the garments on after he finished his usual morning routine--the importance of moisturizing, children--and when he turned to make the bed everything was already done just like the day prior. “You know you don’t have to be shy. You can do things in front of me just as you do with the Beast.” He spoke aloud into the empty room, not expecting any form of answer, but the curtains on the bed fluttered slightly. He took that as a yes and enjoyed another small victory. 

For a moment, he considered going in search of the Beast, but that hadn’t worked out well yesterday, so he decided to just finish what he had started last night. After a short whole of skimming through his select few books that he had collected, he decided the _Herbarium_ and _Antidotarium_ were far too academically written for him to really understand. Besides, they both seemed to not really focus on flora at all. Plants in general, yes, flowers not so much. He set them aside to put back later, but the small stool he placed them on trotted out of the room with the books. “...Thank you!” He called after the silly thing, after his initial shock, realizing that the stool had most likely gone to return them for him. How kind! _The Botanist's Companion to the Identification of Flora_ had proved quite useful for, well, identifying the flowers he didn’t know of course, but it didn’t go much further then that. So he then turned his sights on the homemade Alchemy text and the Assassination guide book. If the flowers had any use for magic or medicine, Jaskier was sure these would have it all there for him in black and white… Except after searching through the neat penmanship for a couple of hours-- pity these didn’t have an index--and jotting down notes as he went, he found there was no correlation. Some were poisonous, some were medicinal, some were magical, some were a combination of the three, and although he assumed magic and alchemy were practically the same thing, none of the four flowers had any use in the same potions or spells he found. Bottom line was that the flowers and their associated parts had no practical use as a whole together. 

Changing his line of thought, he kept his notes, but turned to his final book and opened it. Symbolism was always the way to a bard’s heart, but he hadn’t expected a sorceress or sorcerer to pay much heed to it. Although, perhaps whoever it was to cast the spell was just adding insult to injury. It was like adding some kind of reminder or petty jab to taunt the Beast in his magical prison in the form of flowers. Odd, but not outside the realm of possibility really. He had once gone to such petty lengths as to bribe the laundress at Oxenfurt to “accidentally” dye all of Valdo Marx’s white linens and bed dressings to a color Jaskier knew he particularly hated for weeks just to drive the insufferable prat up the wall. Then to top it all off with a bow, he convinced the lady Valdo was courting at the time, that said color was his favorite and really got him going in the bedroom. He graciously assisted the fine lady to decorate her room in it, as well as oh-so-helpfully assisted her with picking out a stunning outfit to surprise and delight the odious weasel. It all proved to be worth it when the other man had been suspended for a week after he hollered at and practically mauled everyone who crossed his path. Now, many would think Jaskier was being unduly cruel, but in his defense, it was well and truly deserved. He only committed the act of vengeance after the vile piece of shit had stolen one of Jaskier’s early compositions which he had slaved over for months to complete and proceeded to present it as his own for the final examinations. It was butchered and Jaskier couldn’t bring himself to sing it ever again. So if whoever really disliked this Beast was petty enough, Jaskier wouldn’t put it past them to add a small detail of insulting foliage to the whole shabang. 

Upon opening the small journal filled with a ladies delicate crisp script, he set to work. To his confusion, they didn’t all come together as a whole that meant fuck you or something as equally aggressive. It was more mournful and sad. Thistle carried the heavy tones of pain, anger, and pride, which was not at all surprising of the devilish little thing, from what the text said. The Zinnia spoke of an absence while the cyclamens implied a separation that led to the absence. The worst and most heart wrenching of them all were the little purple hyacinths that pleadingly asked for forgiveness. Jaskier didn’t really get the whole picture yet, but he did understand that, as beautiful as the back garden was, it was a reminder. It was a symbol of regret, and something was undoubtedly hidden in the center of the maze. Hopefully a major clue or, if he was lucky enough, the key to breaking the curse. Regardless, the bard was even more determined to unravel what it all meant now than ever. First, however, he needed to gather more flowers and try to pick his way through the maze to its center. 

He set the sad blossoms to the side with the other materials and the journal before pulling on his bright cloak, ready to press on now that he had more stable footing underneath him. A glance to the windows showed that it was practically midday and he had skipped breakfast… again. Whoopsies. Not wanting to take too long though, he popped into the dining room and tucked some apples into his cloak pockets, also managing to remember to grab a couple for the mare--as he promised to do--from the table that was slowly clearing itself for dinner later in the evening. He left through the front entrance and made his way to the stables so he wouldn’t forget to give the lady her treat. 

He stopped short upon entering, however, because the horse was not alone this time. It seemed he was her second visitor of the day. Standing at her side was the Beast, brush in hand, lovingly grooming her while whispering words Jaskier sadly could not hear. The bard couldn’t help but feel elated that he had such good fortune that day. He did, however, war with himself on whether or not he should disturb the tranquil, domestic scene, but the decision was made for him as the lady huffed in Jaskier’s direction, which had the Beast’s gaze snapping up to him. The troubadour’s bright smile was met with an annoyed scowl however, and had Jaskier regretting his mistake of accidentally interrupting. Before he could think of an excuse to quickly get out of the Beast’s hair, the rough baritone called out, halting his thoughts. “What?” It was demanding and clipped but not angry at least.

Jaskier licked his lips nervously as he stepped forward, trying to remember what he had come to do all of a sudden. Thankfully, the gentle knock of the apples against his knee, concealed in his cape, jolted his memory . “Ah! Oh, I just came to bring a treat to the lady. She helped me in a way yesterday and I wanted to thank her.” He could feel his cheeks warm with embarrassment as the words left his mouth. He realized how ridiculous it sounded, but at least it was the truth. 

He expected a scoff or a growl to follow his ridiculous statement, but he was met with wide surprised eyes before the Beast’s face was back to its usual flat stare in the blink of an eye. The Beast said nothing further, but he did hum in acceptance, or at least that’s what Jaskier was going to assume it meant. When the Beast turned back to tending to the horse, Jaskier felt some of the tension leave him. He could do this, he could talk to the intriguing fellow and possibly convince the other to spend time with Jaskier in the day, not just at dinner. 

Jaskier quietly moved towards the two in the stall and cautiously caught the horse’s attention, not wanting to startle her. “Hello, Madam! It’s lovely to see you again!” His mouth moved of its own accord, prattling on at the horse rather than the Beast to hopefully disperse his sudden onset nerves. “I have brought you a treat, as promised.” He continued as he stepped into the stall, putting him rather close to the great mass of fur. The space felt smaller than the other day with all three of them in it, and the bard felt his heart hammering in his throat, ready to run away with itself. He didn’t quite understand his own reaction, but he was tempted to blame it on the strange dream and how the Beast’s fur reminded him of the knight’s hair. He supposed he was needier for companionship then he thought, a matter he usually dealt with by finding some one night stand that gave him the physical if not emotional comfort he longed for. As he tried to quell his racing heart, the Beast shifted further away. The troubadour almost felt like an idiot as he realized the Beast could most likely hear the offending organ and it made him uncomfortable. Hell, if Jaskier could hear someone’s heartbeat race just by stepping into a horse stall which put them in close proximity to one another, he would think them strange too. All in all he was not making a good impression on the other who had already wanted to get rid of him. Mentally shoving down all the weird feelings, he fed the darling mare her treat. 

He needed to act as charming and likable as he usually was, but he couldn’t understand why none of his usual demeanor came out around the other man. He cleared his throat, glancing over at the other. “I apologise for if I offended you in some way last night during dinner. I thought things were going well, but I suppose I must have crossed a line somewhere that upset you, and for that I am remorseful. I didn’t intend to be rude.” He began speaking to fill the silence. It was not anywhere near what he had intended to say, but it also wasn’t the worst way to start. Besides, it was the truth. He felt like it had been his fault that everything was abruptly cut short. An apology was far better than glossing over what had happened, acting like it hadn’t occurred, and talking about the weather. The Beast only hummed in response to Jaskier’s apology, so the bard continued on. “By the way, whose horse is this? She’s an absolute peach! Did she get trapped here as well?”

The Beast grunted slightly in reply, very articulate, and Jaskier assumed that was all he was going to get out of him until finally the low rumbling tone graced the bard’s ears again. “She’s mine. Had her for years, and yes, she is most likely trapped here by the same curse that traps us.” The stoic individual explained, and it was so very sweet how fond he sounded when speaking of his horse.

Except it was as clear as mud. The Beast hadn’t really given him anything but sparse details that told him nothing except for some reason, a Beast in a cursed castle required a horse that he most likely couldn’t ride with his size being what it was. Jaskier would just have to take solace in the fact that he had gotten more words to come out of him than the short, clipped responses… Also that did confirm he was most likely a man before all this if he had had a horse, but it still didn’t tell him anything of the Beast’s status, class, or profession. Anyone could have a horse as long as they could make enough coin to care for it. “Well she’s a darling. May I- Is there any way I can help?” He tried to offer but the Beast shook his head with a happy huff. Jaskier sighed softly in disappointment. Well this wasn’t going very far… Jaskier decided to try another angle. “So, Beast, I really do mean it when I say-”

“Don’t” The deep growl cut him off and Jaskier’s confusion was met with a deep glower before the Beast’s eyes looked anywhere but at him. He didn’t look just annoyed this time but outright angry.

“What?” Jaskier could only ask dumbly because he didn’t know where he had yet again misstepped. 

“Don’t call me that.” He growled, looking genuinely distressed and the bard felt rather bad for it… “Beast..” He spit out the word like it tasted foul on his tongue, muttering mostly to himself. 

“Well…” Jaskier started gently, taking a tentative step forward and laying a hand lightly on the Beast’s arm. He counted it as a win when it was not shaken off. “What should I call you? I--You have yet to give a name, but I apologize for the callous insensitivity I have displayed…” He asked, deciding that he should’ve at least apologized for putting his foot in his mouth again. Just because the Beast knew who he was didn’t mean he shouldn’t have asked the other for his. 

The Beast seemed to consider him critically for a moment while deciding whether or not to answer. “Geralt.”

Jaskier couldn’t help but smile, finally knowing the Beast’s name. “It’s nice to make your acquaintance, Geralt.” He spoke with a flourish and a bow, smiling playfully at the Beast, who rolled his eyes at the bard’s antics, but it felt fond in a way. “Now, as I was trying to say, I really do wish to help break the curse… If you’ll allow, that is.” He offered and amended, fully planning to continue helping regardless but it’d be easier if Geralt consented and provided information. 

The Beast sighed in annoyance, but Jaskier could tell that he was considering whether or not to trust the bard to help, so Jaskier waited patiently. “...The curse changes and shifts according to the person apparently.” He relented vaguely. 

Jaskier was starting to think he and Geralt were going to need a little sit down to have a nice long chat about a thing called details. Really! It was a familiar exasperation that he felt, but didn’t dwell on it since the conversation seemed more pressing. “Sounds rather annoying and rather unfair of the caster to not even give you a hint on how to break it.” 

Geralt nodded stoically, a word that was rather fitting of the cursed man, as he ushered the bard out of the stall. Both said goodbye to the mare before stepping out into the crisp winter scene. It almost felt like the Beast didn’t want the horse to hear their discussion and the thought nearly had him giggling, but he refrained. Must maintain a serious professional demeanor and all that to get any details. “Don’t know much else yet except that the spell provides anything I need to break the curse… And there’s a time limit.” His tone was grave and the notion sent chills up the troubadour’s spine. 

“What happens if time runs out…” He couldn’t help asking as fear creeped into his mind. He may not know the Beast well, but he got a good feeling from him, and he didn’t want to lose yet another companion if he could help it. There was also the matter of what would happen to him if the curse’s time limit ran out since he was now stuck there. It was just as likely that he’d be freed as it was that he’d die with the Beast. 

Geralt didn’t respond however. He shrugged and shook his head, not meeting Jaskier’s eye, telling the bard that even he didn’t know what fate awaited him, but it was most likely very grim. Jaskier didn’t like the somber air that had enveloped them after the conversation lapsed, so he tried to reassure them both with false bravado he didn’t quite feel in the moment. “Well, nothing to fear really. I’m sure with my help, we’ll be able to break this curse in no time.”

The Beast, however, snorted at his cheerful tone. “Oh? What could some bard do that I couldn’t already?” Now Jaskier could tell he was teasing, especially since there was an amused glint in the star like eyes, but he still wound up sputtering indignantly. 

“Some bard!?” He nearly shrieked as the other openly openly chuckled at his flustered state. “How dare you!” Jaskier quickly stooped down, gathering snow into a ball and threw it at the highly amused Beast. He had been mistaken, the Beast had a lack of refinement and taste! “I’ll show you!” He threw another ball of snow to punctuate his sentence before continuing his rant. “I’ll break the damned curse just so I can shove it in your furry handsome face!” 

He continued to pelt Geralt with snow, but now the other was returning fire, and Jaskier was scrambling to dodge while giving little shrieks of delight because as upset as he was, it was rather fun. “If your curse breaking is as bad as your aim bard, I shall fear for my life!” The other called out as they exchanged blows, his tone open and friendly. The man was apparently finding humor in ruffling Jaskier’s feathers, the insufferably gruff, intriguing bastard!

“In fact, I bet the curse brought me here because you were too busy brooding to figure it out!” His shrieks slowly morphed into delighted little laughs as they traded powdery blows. “An answer to your prayers!”

He ducked and ran through the front garden boasting as he tried to hit the agile Beast as the Beast chased after him. “More likely an added punishment brought to torment me.” The Beast countered, which rustled the bard more, most likely an attempt to get Jaskier to falter, which he almost gave into. 

After a little while of cat and mouse in their little snowball game, he was tackled into the fluffy snow by his pursuer. He giggled looking up at the Beast. Jaskier was pulling in deep breaths to sate his burning lungs while Geralt seemed unperturbed by the exercise, but they were both unmistakably smiling in their own ways, Jaskier grinning broadly while Geralt smirked. “The solution to all your woes…” He breathed out softly between them which Geralt rolled his eyes at fondly at before standing up, breaking whatever small moment that had appeared between them. He was kind enough to help the smaller man up, however, so chivalrous he was. 

Jaskier couldn’t help the soft, giddy giggles that sporadically slipped out from his lips, but as fun as everything had been, Geralt turned towards the castle. “I’ll, uh… I’ll see you at dinner.” Geralt offered before quickly going off and disappearing. 

Jaskier was left standing outside once again, damp, but genuinely happy for the first time in a while. He would have felt like he had scared the Beast off again had Geralt not just confirmed they’d be dining together. A part of him wanted to hop around in victory, but instead he buried his blushing face in his hands and squealed softly in delight. Things may have started off rocky but now things were finally looking up. Wanting to press his good fortune, Jaskier quickly made his way to the back gardens to collect a few more flowers to look up. He may or may not have been skipping, but he was too happy to care. He collected three more, wanting to take his time and not misidentify anything, since they dried slightly in the time he looked each one up. This time he collected a small, delicate little flower, a larger yellow flower that looked like the ruffled layers of a ladies petticoats, and a vivid purple flower with lots of long thin petals and a bright yellow center. Spending time searching for and picking buds had left him feeling rather chilled, however, so he hurried around the keep and went back inside.

By the time Jaskier was back in his chamber, he realized just how frigidly cold he actually was. Frost has actually stiffened the damper part of his clothes. He shivered from the snow-dampened clothes, and a part of him knew it would be best to go take a nice hot bath, but he was suddenly very tired. So he stripped off his wet clothing, setting them to thaw and dry by the fire, and he set his newly collected blossoms with the others on his desk before dressing in the shirt he had slept in. Thankfully, from the position of the sun in the sky, Jaskier could tell he had a couple of hours until dinner. Which was just perfect! He’d take a nap for a little while, warm up, and then get all nice and freshened up for dinner. As he settled into bed, he wondered if Geralt would sneak him another outfit that he’d wish Jaskier to wear for dinner or not. The idea made him smile and laugh slightly before sleep pulled him into its sweet embrace. 

When he opened his eyes, he found himself standing before the same lake he had been at in his dream before. This time however, most of the trees were waning in the late autumn fashion, and the sun was slowly setting on the horizon behind him. However, he was not filled with awe and the delight of meeting a handsome mysterious stranger in the woods this time. In fact, he felt rather heart broken, a feeling he knew all too well at this point, and was not thrilled to be feeling it again. Worst of all, he felt like he could do nothing to remedy the situation which brought the sting of hot tears welling up and overflowing. He tried brushing them away, but the fat tears continued to flow. His soft hiccuping sobs that had forced their way passed his lips were halted by Lew emerging out of the trees. His sharp features were softened by the solemn concern that he wore openly on his face. His piercing yellow eyes held Jasekier captive as the man-- no, Knight apparently-- approached slowly.

“I should’ve told you…” His voice was full of regret and Jaskier knew he had already forgiven him. 

“It shouldn’t matter... “ Jaskier tried to offer, fully believing in what he said. It shouldn't have, whatever the drama was that his brain concocted, but it did. 

“But she’s your only family and it made me appear to be dishonest.” The silver haired knight finished for him. “...I think she just needed an excuse to deny the proposal. You only have one another and I understand her fear of losing you.” He added, a deep misery settled in his topaz gaze. It seemed to be one of his overly dramatic nights where he put too much poetic flare on his observations.

“I know…” Was all Jaskier could offer pitifully, feeling more tears welling up and burning the back of his throat. He couldn’t hide his little hitched sobs in the silent evening that veiled them from the world they would eventually have to go back to. Lew stepped closer, taking Jaskier’s hand in his, tentatively checking if the touch was welcome. The bard couldn’t help himself as he buried himself in the larger man’s arms, modesty be damned. Lew instinctively tightened the embrace as he ran his gloved hand through his hair and down his back soothingly. The knight’s thick cloak shielded them from the rest of the night and kept the chill at bay. It was only when the other’s heat seeped into his bones that Jaskier realized how cold he had become. Jaskier had forgotten that he had run out into the night without his own cloak, and the long trailing jacket he wore was not enough to buffer the late autumn weather.

“I promise, I will fix this, dear heart. I will do anything to prove to her that my feelings are genuine and that I only wish to care and provide for you. I do not mean to whisk you away or disappear with you.” His voice was even as he murmured to the bard. Jaskier pressed further into the other, not caring about the cool armor between them. He knew his heart already belonged to this man, and it was terrifying, but it brought him comfort to hear the other’s feelings. “I must tell you that the only reason I kept my title from you was because I wanted to know you without any status or title coming between us… It was selfish, I know, but I wanted to be free by your side, even if only for as long as you’d let me. I should have told you sooner.” Lew’s voice was remorseful as he cradled Jaskier so gently in his hold. 

The bard couldn’t help the small wet laugh that bubbled up in him as he looked up into his knight’s startled gaze. “I know, my dear. I know and I wouldn’t change even a second of the time we stole together.” Jaskier found himself declaring before he could second guess himself, but once the words were out, he knew they were true in his heart. Although his chest ached pleasantly compared to the heartache he had been feeling, something still felt false. This was all just a beautiful dream that he’d never have, and it made him want to weep, but he didn’t. He knew he was a cad and a flirt who played with one to many skirts, drawing the ire of husbands and other men. He knew with all his dishonesty, gallivanting, and cowardice he didn’t deserve such a sweet, faithful lover. He would not have such a fulfilling love unless the gods took pity and gifted him one last chance, but if he ever had a love in the waking world that felt like this, he’d follow them to the ends of the earth and back. He would faithfully love them and only them if he were just given a chance… But hadn’t he already had that chance? Wasn’t that why he felt as though there was a hole where his heart was that threatened to swallow him whole if he wasn’t distracting himself with other thoughts? It was why he felt jagged around the edges, something had been broken inside and hadn’t fit back together just right. He had wasted his one shot. 

“I will make this right.” The knights rumbled softly, like a summer storm, and Jaskier was pulled back into the present of the dream even though the realization lingered in his thoughts. As much as the gentle treatment broke his already fragile heart more, the bard found himself smiling lightly as the man stepped away. A strong hand wiped away the last of his tears before bidding him farewell. 

As Jaskier watched the knight disappear into the dark woods, he felt lighter and heavier at the same time. As he closed his eyes to savor the fleeting moment, he found himself blinking awake in his too warm bed. He tried to push down the regret welling up inside, but soon it was spilling out as he cried mutedly into his pillow. He felt so upset, and angry, and overwhelmed at the realization that he had somehow lost his love. To add salt to the gaping wound, he couldn’t even remember why or how! He couldn’t remember their face! Or their voice! All he wanted to do now was find them and fix everything, but he was here. He supposed the memory loss was also most likely his fault… An ill conceived memory spell undoubtedly procured from a backwater hag, presumably in an attempt to forget the pain after he got roaringly drunk. It definitely sounded on par with the foolish shit he had done in his lifetime, but it only served to wipe the man from his world, not the pain. The mind may forget, but the heart will always remember. As he felt entirely too warm and morose, as though this was the bed he would die in, he spotted a bundle of clothes left on the side table by his side of the bed. The thought of the Beast leaving them there after creeping carefully in to surprise him with the gift managed to quell his tears and bring a tiny hint of a smile to his lips. Although he had messed his life up somehow and he felt lost, adrift in a sea he no longer knew how to navigate, he was at least not alone. He had his dreams filled with lovely views and a darling knight, but more importantly, he had the company of his Beast. He very much preferred his Beast to imaginary knights if he was to get through this whole comedy of tragedies that was his life. 

So regardless of how his body protested and how his head swam with sleep, he hauled himself up and out of the bed that remade itself. The light outside was almost completely gone which meant he had slept longer than he had intended. He’d have to hurry if he wanted to be on time. Jaskier found himself quickly freshening up in the wash basin to rid himself of the sweat he somehow drenched himself in as he slept while chiding the fireplace for stoking itself so high… and then he consoled the poor thing because he felt bad for being too harsh with it as he put on kohl to match the dark garments still neatly folded and waiting. When he picked them up, however, he finally noticed they were a deep purple velvet that brightened as the fabric shifted. The long doublet was trimmed with emerald braiding, and near the collar, emeralds were studded in a way to appear as though he were wearing an extravagant necklace. The simple velvet trousers were well fitted and clung to him like a second skin. His new chemise that went with the ensemble was lilac, and so delicate in his hands that it could only be made of silk. This outfit seemed terribly grand compared to the past outfits he had been given, and for the first time in his life, he was nervous to put on such finery, but it would be rude not to. So he dressed carefully, realizing then just how warm velvet was to wear, but he’d just bare it for the sake of his Beast. He also decided to wear the few silver rings he had to add a little touch of his own. As the bard was pulling on his new over the knee black boots, a knock came at his door and he realized with a small smile that Geralt had come to fetch him again. Muzzy headed with excitement, he quickly finished and strode to the door, pulling it open with a flourish and a big delighted smile. As he suspected, the Beast was truly there, hunched over to look less threatening, and he had changed out of his usual armor into clothes that seemed dressier, which had Jaskier’s woefully soft heart bubbling happily in his chest. Geralt had made an effort this time and, if Jaskier may be so bold as to wish, it was for his sake. “Geralt! Shall we?” He asked cheerily, looping his arm around the crook of the other’s elbow and waited for the other to lead the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🏵️💮 Have you ever looked at the coffee pot slowly drip at 6am, thinking about the pocket void you are in that spans from 6 to 7 in the morning when the world is barely awake and you are the only one there but then you realize you hate coffee even though it's the only reason you stay awake in at your desk? Anyway, I will hopefully have updates up on sunday or monday nights from now on and next one should be a rather long chapter from how it looks! I hope to try and keep a schedule but if you ever have a question or wanna say hi in case I haven't appeared in a while, just feel free to pop onto my tumblr to send a message or leave a comment here! I love hearing from anyone who reads and enjoys my writing. See you next time darlings! 💮🏵️

**Author's Note:**

> Next Chapter our sweet Bard plays a bigger role, I promise. Leave me comments and suggestions and let me know if I should continue with this.


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